


Together Masked

by Miri Cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Pseudo-Incest, Renaissance Era, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:20:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/Miri%20Cleo
Summary: Even time travel could not change their futures.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Short August Medieval Exchange 2020





	Together Masked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRaven/gifts).



> Many thanks to GlassesOfJustice and StripyTights for beta work.

Tilly had been giddy--well, more giddy than usual. And while she'd done a passable job of playing "Killy," this was actual _history_ they were dealing with. Though, it might not have been their actual universe's history. Stamens still wasn’t sure where the ship had pushed them out of the mycelial barrier at. It wasn’t the same as Lorca’s calculated jumps, hunting pockets of dark matter. 

This had been...well a shitshow would be putting it mildly. What they did know was the when and at least part of the where. Earth. Sometime in the fifteenth century. They were gathering as much data as they could to make that estimate more accurate. That’s why Tilly had been giddy. At least...until Michael told her she would not be joining the reconnaissance mission that Saru stringently opposed. 

The fewer on planet the better. If Michael had gotten her way, it would have just been her beaming down. She didn't get her way. So, she walked at Spock's side, their arms touching as they made their way out of a darkened corner of Venice and into the crowd. 

"It would have been logical to choose a less populated location," he said, voice muffled by his Volto mask.

"A less populated location would have afforded us less opportunity to blend in and more opportunity for discovery."

"Or more opportunity for observation at a distance."

"Relax, Spock. Venice was the _logical_ choice. Masks were an integral part of society here, and it was easy to choose our apparel without specifically dating ourselves to year or season." The bells on her jolly mask jingled. It was ostentatious, but so was everything else around them. 

She couldn't stop grinning, and even though the mask hid it, Michael thought her delight somehow showed in the garish colors of her patchwork clothing and the floppy points of her mask. And somehow, too, Spock's disapproval showed through his own mask. It was true, Michael wasn't being as objective as she should have been. 

"We should split up," Michael said suddenly. There would never be another chance like this. 

"That is inadvisable."

"The ship is tracking us. There are no threats here...just an unprecedented chance to observe Earth's history."

"Perhaps." Spock put his hands behind his back as they strolled forward. "This may be the Earth of the Terran empire. Or an entirely different universe altogether. You are minimizing hidden dangers."

She took his arm, stopping their progress as she turned to him. Michael didn't need to see behind the mask to read Spock's face. His dark eyes were enough. Even after so many years, she could see the little boy inside of him even through the impassiveness that was their father's legacy. How silly to think of that night so many years ago, that night that hadn't even happened yet in the here and now. And yet, Michael took his hand. 

"We stay together."

She felt the gentle pressure of his fingers squeezing hers as he said. "We stay together."

Night fell, and the city was anything but silent. The bustle of people in the narrow streets grew, and the amethyst glow of the streetlamp flames made shadows dance. Michael breathed in the scents of flesh and food and salt. She let herself live them. And through it all, the cool touch of Spock's hand remained in hers. 

Eventually, they came to the Canale Grande. Michael looked out for small signs that this was an Earth destined for a different path than the one she knew. But Venice of this century might have been any planet in the universe. Laughter spilled out of a palazzo, dancing across the water along with snatches of music. Gondolas of myriad colors streamed through the water and up to its docks. She was surprised when Spock took her elbow, guiding her to a pier and onto one of the boats. He murmured to the gondolier, and Michael could see the flash of metal change hands between them. 

"How did you know that would be the correct currency?" she asked as he settled next to her in the plush seat. The oar was almost soundless in the water as they pushed away, gliding toward the palazzo. 

"It seems some Venetians are less careful with their purses than others."

If she didn't know him better, Michael might have thought she saw a spark of mischief in Spock's eyes. "I'm surprised."

"By the cut of his dress and richness of the fabrics, he will not miss a few ducats. The gondolas bear quite an array of ornamentation," he said, steering the conversation back to the mission at hand, "so we have not yet reached the seventeenth century if this is the Venice of our universe."

"I had no idea you were so well versed in this era of ancient Earth history."

"It would have been remiss of me not to prepare for this mission."

Typical. Michael had also prepared, but that detail had eluded her--no doubt a result of her wholly human physiology. He didn't say it though, and Michael let the sting of facing a childhood on Vulcan fade into the background of her thoughts. 

They arrived at the palazzo and let the current of partygoers pull them inside. Michael took in the gilded accents of plaster decorations along the walls and ceiling. In their time, Venice had long since been claimed by the ocean, and there were only so many underwater ruins left to preserve. Even the greatest modern historians had never had the view she was seeing right then. They would never be able to exactly describe the sounds of silks rustling to the music of the day or the scent of roasted fish and meat and candied delicacies continuously being replenished. Michael caught the scent of wine from a guest in a gatto mask passing by. 

They could find a quiet place, signal the ship for transport. It wasn't clear yet whether they were in their universe's past, but Michael and Spock had enough to establish the timeline. There would be no conventional technology planetside that could help them make repairs and get back home. But Spock was not pressing to get back to the ship, so Michael was not going to bring it up. She wanted to remember every bit of this by so carefully storing everything in the rooms of her mind palace. Though the young, very human girl that was still deep within Michael was hoping they wouldn't be stuck here forever. 

"Spock, what are you doing?" In letting her mind wander, Michael was surprised to find that he'd steered them into separate lines, facing each other. Her eyes widened at the percussive strike followed by the sound of a lute. "Spock, no."

But the dancers had already begun, and Michael mirrored his movements, only a fraction behind the beat. As they took hands and began to circle, she fell into the movements, her body remembering them or at least something similar. Michael focused on Spock's eyes, which stayed unwavering on her own face. 

"Is this your way of getting back at me for an unnecessary reconnaissance mission?" 

"Our father found Mother's insistence on dancing lessons to be quite frivolous."

"I remember agreeing." they turned, and the room was a whirl of color before Michael felt the touch of Spock's hand and the steadiness of his eyes. 

"I found them a worthy endeavor--representative of the more refined aspects of human culture."

Michael raised her eyebrows, bells jingling brightly against the music. "You enjoyed them."

"If you must term it that way."

The music began to slow, and they grew closer, circling each other, connected. Michael felt the moment spin out with time elongating. The warm light glowed in Spock's eyes. The music faded away. The footsteps and laughter and warm breeze of the evening felt distant as they came to rest, palms pressed together between their chests. He enjoyed it because it was with her. Spock's steady gaze told her what he would not. And the moment was gone, like a breath. 

"We should return to the ship."

Michael swallowed, nodding because she didn't trust her voice. For the first time that night, she desperately wanted to see Spock's face. She wanted him to see hers. But she curtsied to his bow, and they did not touch again as they found a secluded corner from which to leave the past behind.


End file.
